


ouch.

by xxodii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amputation, Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16361129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxodii/pseuds/xxodii
Summary: Lance started to move. He pulled one arm that weighed a ton. One arm in front. Pain splintered from his shoulder. Not happening. He used his good hand to pull his weight. He was brought with nothing. He moved his gaze towards his legs. His left was bloodied, but fine, his other leg was… Oh God, his other leg.





	ouch.

Lance was in a bad way. A very bad way. His mind was fuddled and only memories of pain surfaced. He felt cold under his hand through his glove. He tried to focus on the cold sensation rather than the flowing pain everywhere else in his body. He needed to move. What else was he supposed to do? He needed to open his eyes. He was greeted with a dull light. There was no one around, only the faint rustle of death.

Lance started to move. He pulled one arm that weighed a ton. One arm in front. He moved to bring his other arm above him. Pain splintered from his shoulder. Not happening. He used his good hand to pull his weight. He was brought with nothing. He moved his gaze towards his legs. His left was bloodied, but fine, his other leg was… Oh God, his other leg. It was mangled beyond recognition. His suit cracked and stained crimson.

Why was there no pain in his foot? There was a pain in his thigh but… He won’t say it. He just needed to move. Get to someone, anyone, anywhere but here. He began to pull again. Every inch of his body protesting movement. It just wanted to stay still, falter, and die. Lance was the only thing making his body run. Where was his helmet? If he reached that then he could call his team. He forced his head to turn, but he was greeted with an absence anything helpful. He did, however; catch sight of a doorway. Anything to get out of this room.

Moving was laborious and painful. Every movement seemed to rub sand into every cut in his body, judging by the current pain that was quite a lot of cuts. He pulled. He brought his arm back forward. He braced himself. He pushed. He should have been worried about soldier finding him or injuring himself further, but he was running entirely on instincts and adrenaline.

But the instinct faltered. He was going to die. He wasn’t moving fast enough. Someone was going to find him and finish him.

Footsteps.

Fast footsteps.

Approaching footsteps.

Without much thought, Lance moved to summon his pistol.

Footsteps.

He shifted as to get a clear shot at the door.

Closer footsteps.

Lance forced air out of his lungs. The door shot open. They both froze. If Lance didn't recognize the platinum blonde hair of the woman he fell for he would have pulled the trigger.

“Lance!” he heard.

Lance went to return the yell but he was given pain and blood in his throat.

“Just don’t move.” _Too late._ “I’m going to carry you.” _This is going to hurt._ It did.

He wanted to pass out. He wanted to die. If he hadn’t been so close to death he would have enjoyed the sweet smell of her hair, but instead, it just added to chaos attacking his senses.

He was leaving her. Alone. He can’t do that. He wouldn’t… He won’t… Am I?

 

* * *

 

_Yelling, why so much yelling?_ Lance was jolted awake. His second conscious thought was filled with red-hot pain in his leg. He heard a voice. _It was nice_ but scared. _Beautiful._

 

* * *

 

Quiet. The pain was slower to come this time. It still came through.

He didn’t die. How to feel? He was unsure.

The ceiling was off-white. He moved his gaze down to his body. Most of it was covered in a blanket. Only one of his arms was free, one of them trapped in a sling. _Now I can’t write!_ He paused. He’s fine. _Ambidextrous._

His gaze moved once more. He saw Hunk sitting in a chair a foot away. He was snoozing with his head in his hand, his hair falling in his face. Hunk wasn’t clear of injuries either. There were plenty of sutured wounds on his face. Anger boiled in the pit of Lance’s stomach.

Surrounding him were various wires with varying colors. With some thought, Lance could tell that they weren’t on Earth. Disappointment. Lance went to speak but an apparatus stopped him. He guessed it was to help him breathe. But he didn’t want to breathe right now! He wanted to talk! He wanted to scream. The plastic dug into his throat in a way that was sure to leave him horribly sore. Lance shifted in the bed. He was extremely slightly uncomfortable. His brain was fuzzy and dizzy. The waves of drowsiness crashed into Lance’s subconscious. He tried to fight it. He made a noise in his throat that somewhat resembled a whine. Hunk shot up.

“Lance!” Hunk said. Then lowering his voice; “How’s it going, buddy?”

Lance growled, and pointed with his good hand towards the thing on his face, and deep into his mouth.

Hunk forced a laugh. “Yeah… I think that supposed to help you breathe.”

Hunk paused. “Do you want to know what to know what happened?”

Lance nodded his head yes. The motion made his head throb.

Hunk inhaled, and said, “We were on a stealth invasion mission. There was something set off, and all we heard was an explosion, and no reply from you. So we all sought out to find you. Allura ended up finding you. You were bleeding pretty much everywhere, and your…”

Hunk lost his words. Lance looked at him questioningly.

“W-We brought you to the nearest planet that could help,” Hunk slowed to a stop. Lance used his hand to point towards Hunk. It took Hunk a second to understand the gesture.

“How am I? Well, my wrist is pretty swollen and my back hurts but… Everyone else is about the same. Pidge is fine. Just a couple of minor things.” Lance relaxed.

Hunk drew out his words. “They... are out resting. But I’ll call them.”

Lance didn’t really want them to see them, but he realized they have definitely already seen him. He couldn’t help but feel weak with his dependence on this many machines just to stay alive. He felt like he had failed. Failed in the mission. Failed the team. Failed to die.

 

* * *

 

He had been trapped two days. Two days of sleeping, and existing. He normally loved sleeping, but moderation was key. He was constantly uncomfortable, and whenever he thought to be fine there was a sudden sharp pain somewhere in his body. None of this planet’s painkillers did a good enough job.

Then there was his body. Specifically his lower half. Specifically his leg. He hadn’t fully accepted it. It was gone. Just below his knee. The bandaged stump stared back at Lance, and only reminded him of his failure. He thought of all the things to miss. Swimming, running, walking, they would all be completely different, if at all possible. He dreaded having to rely on others for simple tasks. He could do things by himself, but because of that damn 11 inches gone from his body, he was worthless.

His team tried to help. Shiro was the most sympathetic of them all. Lance felt that Shiro had it a lot worse. An arm is worth more than a leg, right?

At the moment Lance was still sat in the bed. He was sat up against a pile of pillows, and cords still surrounding him. The room was windowless. That was Lance’s most hated aspect of the room. He was suffocating.

He was alone at the moment.

His ears rang in the silence.

Lance took the blanket off his body and flung it onto the floor. He looked at the leg. Without forethought, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ignored the protest of his body. He was going to stand at least. He can’t be that weak. His hands met the side of the bed to prepare. His bare foot hit the cold of the ground, and no sooner his the rest of his body also hit the floor. He couldn’t do anything. Tears flowed, and sobs surfaced. He hated all of this. Life would be worthless.

_End it._

Lance froze. The thought repeated in his mind a few times.

He had never thought anything like that before. It was like the wound had carried venom, and it had finally reached his head, threading thoughts into his conscious. With great disappointment, Lance felt his head move to find anything that would aid in the task. As tears fell, Lance pulled himself up to a chair. It took a while. Lance hated how he relished in the pain. His arms shook as he pulled himself up. The machines that were attached to him were thankfully on wheels and had moved about a foot. God knows how they stayed in his body.

He had made it here. _What next?_ He spotted a sink… And a cupboard. _Maybe cleaner would be there. It was the least messy method._ Lance shuttered at the thought.

That’s when he heard the quiet click of the door.

“Hey Lance,” the soft voice of Hunk sounded before the door had fully opened. He spotted Lance’s absence in the bed, then his presence in the chair.

“What are you doing?”

_What was he doing?_ Lance lacked a reason.

“I dunno,” Lance said. “I-I didn’t want to be in bed anymore.”

“I know man, but you’re gonna mess your stuff up more,” Hunk took a step towards Lance.

“Don’t.”

Hunk froze.

“W-”

“I don’t need help.”

“...”

“Yes, you do.” _Different voice._ Lance spiked in anger. It was Keith. Keith, the least of which he wanted to see him like this. He walked to Hunk’s side, which had stopped in his tracks.

“I-I don’t.” Keith started to walk towards Lance.

“Shut up,” Keith said.

Lance obliged. He was tired, and as much as he valued his pride, he couldn’t make it to his bed again. Lance felt Keith wrap his arms under his. With help from Hunk, they reached the bed, and Lance lied back down.

“Why did you get out of bed,” Keith said. There was something about his tone. Something strong that forced Lance to tell the truth.

“I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to know if I could even stand. And I-” Lance’s body shook from a sob. “I-I couldn’t even do that. I’m so fucking-”

He felt a hand on his good shoulder. He followed the hand up the pale arm, and up to his face. It was sad like it normally was, but this seemed different. Even worse than he had seen before. Lance wanted him to stop it. He hated that he was the one making him feel this way.

“I know.”

_But he didn’t. He was still two-legged, and so much better than him. Geez_ , Lance thought he was over that.

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, I guess not.” Keith thought. “I guess I just wanted to let you know that you’re not alone?” His words came out awkward. He was kind of bad at this, but the meaning was still there.

“Yeah…” Lance replied.

“I think I wanna be alone,” Lance spoke.

Both Hunk and Keith considered this.

“Are you sure man?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“If you need us, or anything, we will probably be sitting outside. Just shout I guess,” Keith said.

Lance both wanted them to stay and leave. He was unbearably confused and wanted nothing more than to be in his own bed, in his own house, with his own mom. Lance heard the door click shut.

Lance cried. Tear streamed. Sobs shook his body. He hated all of this. Had he made that clear yet? Had he told God that he didn’t want this? Had He even cared?

He thought of Pidge. Anytime that he thought of God, he felt like he could feel Pidge mocking him. He knew that she would disprove every aspect of his faith. It's part of the reason he had kept it a secret from the team.

He had seen so many planets with such sophisticated civilizations. There was no way for everything to exist based on solely chance.

Lance enjoyed this thought process. It took him away from his current situation slightly. It didn’t make me completely happy though. He thought of this that made him happy. He smiled as Allura’s familiar face surfaced. How was she doing?

He wiped his face clean with his hand. He hated crying. He hated the inconvenience more than anything. The signs of crying remain on his face, telling everyone who sees him how weak he was. He hated having to explain why he cried. He hated people questioning him.

Lance heard rustling and murmuring from behind the door. He did his best to make sure that his face was clear of crying.

This time when the door opened it was a doctor, or at least what Lance guessed to be the doctor. He had seen the face in and out of his memories, but no interaction was substantial enough to cement much more into his memories. The doctor walked in alone.

Lance didn’t want to be alone with him. His gut told him that the doctor’s face only meant bad news. Or maybe it was just his face. This planet’s race was slightly off in terms of facial expressions, making it hard to tell exactly what they are thinking.

“Hello, McClain.”

Lance hadn’t been called that in a while. None of his teammates ever called him that. It only made him homesick.

“Hi,” Lance spoke.

“How are you feeling?” Lance was asked.

“I’m okay.”

“Good...” The doctor paused. “We have something for you.”

_Oh great_ , Lance thought. _This will be awesome..._

“Hm?”

“We have designed a temporary prosthetic for you. The more fleshed out final design still has work to be done; however, this one will be substantial enough for you to walk on it. I know how hard it can be for humans to sit still for so long. Your friends were adamant on getting something for you as soon as possible.”

Lance listened. He wanted desperately to walk, even if his pride took a hit since he needed an instrument to do such a simple task. It was his fault for being careless.

“Okay,” Lance replied.

“Great!” The doctor sounded satisfied and brought his hands to together in a soft clap. “I will have a nurse help you get it in place. Don’t worry! They do this all the time!” He called over his shoulder as he walked out.

Almost two seconds later a short nurse with long olive green hair tied back into a tight ponytail walked in. If Lance hadn’t been such a pitiful state he would have shared some of his charms. _Oh to hell_ , Lance would give it a shot.

“Are you the pretty lady that’s gonna help me walk?”

She laughed softly, bringing her hand to her face slightly. “I suppose so.”

Lance smiled as he saw red reach her cheeks. _Dang, even in this state he won the ladies_. He felt like he regained a minuscule amount of his pride.

The nurse had brought in a tray which carried the prized hunk of metal that would be his ticket to walking again.

She smiled softly as she said, “First I’m going to set some extra cushion so it won’t be so uncomfortable.”

Lance swore this woman could convince him to do anything if she just asked nicely. He watched her grab fabric from below the cart and began to wrap his knee. He liked to watch her hands work. The doctor was right, it seemed like she had done this countless time before. She somehow kept the softness of her touch despite how fast she was working.

“Alright, Next I’m-” She paused. “Do you want me to explain what I’m doing? Or...”

“I’d just love to hear you talk honestly,” Lance said.

She chuckled, “Okay then.”

“Here is the main part of the prosthetic, and then here,” she pointed to the top of the calf of the prosthetic, and Lance’s eyes followed. “This is the suction that will attach to your leg. There are also electrodes so you will have movement in the prosthetic. As if it were your actual leg.”

There was a slight pause, and Lance seized it.

“How many of these prosthetics do you guys administer each day?” Lance wondered out loud.

“Quite a few actually. There’s a project that the Agency is building just a couple steps down the road, and there are a lot of injuries. The Agency makes sure that the men are back and running as soon as possible, so we have learned to work fast. Your final fleshed out prosthetic is taking much longer because we haven’t worked with humans before. Though our races seem somewhat biologically similar. We also want to give our best for a paladin of Voltron.”

As she spoke, she attached the prosthetic to Lance’s knee. Instantly Lance felt different. It was the strangest sensation he had felt. He felt that he was simultaneously feeling having and not having his leg. It was his, but not his at the same time. Tear pricked his eyes, but he urged them away.

The nurse chuckled softly. “I haven’t had that reaction in a while. Most men here barely care the difference.”

“Guess I’m different then,” Lance chuckled because he didn’t know what else to do.

The nurse took a step back, admiring her work.

“Well... Aren’t you going to try walking?”

“W-Wait! I never asked your name!” Lance stammered.

“Ayala.” She smiled.

_Damn, always girls with A names apparently_.

“Name’s Lance,” he grinned.

“Nice to meet you, Lance,” she said. “Now do I need to drag you out of that bed, or are you going to show me that you can walk?”

“U-Uh, yea...” Lance started.

Sensing Lance’s sudden discomfort Ayala spoke, “Or would you like me to get one of your friends?”

“Yes,” Lance said without hesitation. “Uh, but uh... Just the one with the orange headband please.”

Lance felt the most comfortable with Hunk in this state. Hunk had seen him completely shitfaced before so not much was left to the imagination in terms of embarrassment.

The nurse left and came back with Hunk at her side.

“Hey man, how are you doing?” Hunk asked.

“Awesome.” Lance didn’t feel like pretending he was okay anymore which left his words dripping with sarcasm.

“So... You’re going to try walking?” Hunk asked.

“I guess so,” Lance grumbled.

Lance took a breath, then sat up, and slowly put his legs over the side of the bed. He didn’t look either of them in the eyes. He didn’t want to see the pity that he was sure was in their eyes. Hunk took a step towards him and extended his hand.

Lance hesitated. He could do this himself. Couldn’t he?

He couldn’t.

He took Hunk’s hand. His hand was warm and comforting.

The cool ground touched his foot. It reminded him of the last time he tried to stand. Failure. Pitiful failure.

He wanted nothing more than to curl up and start crying again, but instead, he put weight on Hunk’s hand as he stood up.

_Oh damn_ , his legs were horribly weak, and it hurt to straighten his knees. It left him awkwardly stood holding Hunk’s hand like a lifeline.

“Shit,” Lance laughed. It was empty and awkward.

“Do you want to try and take a step?” Ayala chimed.

Lance nodded slightly. He put his good foot forward, but the instant he took the weight of his good foot and onto his right there was a horrible shooting pain. He crumpled, and Hunk was quick to catch him.

“Crap man,” Hunk spoke. “You okay?”

“I can’t do it. I can’t even fucking walk,” Lance croaked. Tears attacked his eyes and fighting it was pointless.

Ayala silently left the room, and Lance cried. Sobs racked, and Hunk’s strong grip absorbed them.

“I know dude, I’m sorry,” Hunk whispered. “I’m sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've really enjoyed writing this. i'm getting serious about practicing and getting good at this. hopefully i will improve lol  
> hope you enjoyed my boi lance's suffering.


End file.
